


Why You Don't Turn Your Back on the Bodies

by Sometimes_I_Write_Things



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Intended Necrophilia, M/M, Necrophilia, Size Difference, Sober Gamzee Makara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-22 21:02:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4850465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sometimes_I_Write_Things/pseuds/Sometimes_I_Write_Things
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ain’t shit to do. You got nothing but time to kill until your Lord has need of you and you must make good on some scheming-whimsy. A motherfucker as rickety in the thinkpan as you ought not to have so much down time, so you ought to call it a miracle that a wicked opportunity presents itself to you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why You Don't Turn Your Back on the Bodies

Ain’t shit to do. You got nothing but time to kill until your Lord has need of you and you must make good on some scheming-whimsy. A motherfucker as rickety in the thinkpan as you ought not to have so much down time, so you ought to call it a miracle that a wicked opportunity presents itself to you.

Sollux’s body lays there before you with limbs all spread akimbo, looking downright alluring all sprawled out like he is.How did you manage to leave this fine fucking prize of a bod out in the open like this? Motherfucker’s just all laying there like he’s all presenting at you, face down and ass up. Did you leave him like that? You can’t say you’d be all up and surprised, seeing as you can be quite the forgetful motherfucker what with so much to hold onto and all the fucking holes in your thinkpan. You figure since you ain’t got shit to do and your yellow brother ain’t got any sort of use for that wicked bod of his now that he’s all dead…. or half-dead or something, you can have a little fun. Ain’t like you haven’t done it before. 

Licking your lips, you drop your pants and get down on your knees behind the body, snatching down the garments barring you from your prize. You grip his hips and press up tight at the apex of his thighs, growling low and pleased to yourself as your bulge unsheathes inside his nook. It’s a painfully tight fit given how small Sollux’s body is compared to yours. It takes you pulling back and shoving your hips forward a few times to get all the way inside, but you manage. You thank the Messiahs your yellow bro has a nook so stretchy despite how small it is. Must be a lowblood thing, you figure. Motherfuckers got to be stretchy to take bulge like they’re up and meant for if they ain’t used for painting the wicked pictures, right?

After a few moments of pounding away savagely at Sollux’s nook, you realize something’s off. Under your growling and heavy breathing, it almost feels like the body under you is breathing. If you had been looking close enough, you’d notice how the limbs twitch or how the core tenses like it’s like to arch. You ain’t ever felt a dead motherfucker be so warm and wet for your bulge, soft flesh giving easily against your brutal fucking. If all your thinking-blood wasn’t in your bulge, you’d probably think a little harder on that; make yourself listen to the little voice in your head that snidely remarks that a vacated body ain’t supposed to have a nook that grips on you so nice and sweet, but you really just wanna empty your globes into what you figure is a vacant sack of flesh.

By the time you’re about to blow your load, your pulse hammers in your ears and the building pleasure makes you dumb and ignorant to everything else but your globes drawing up tight to your body. Your upper lip curls over your fangs in a feral snarl and your eyes flutter closed as you release, buckling over after the first few shots of material wrecks your shit so good you can’t keep yourself upright anymore. You collapse on top of the body before you finish cumming, whirring and purring happy and stupid as you hug the body to you. 

It’s then when you realized you fucked up. You royally fucked up. Sollux’s head turns very very slowly to look at you, yellow dusting the cheeks and an empty eye-socket all staring at you. How could you not have noticed? How could you have missed the hot spill on your lap when clearly you don’t in any way run warm? Shit, how did the motherfucker stay quiet through all your raucous pailing? Maybe you got lost in your thinkpan or something. Wouldn’t surprise you given how you find yourself just doing shit you don’t even get your pre-meditating on about. 

 

“Uh… Gamzee?”

“Honk…”

 

Sollux sighs all exasperated and annoyed, like you were the last person he expected to come along and just have their way with his body. You don’t bother moving away though. What’s done is done and your walkstalks are too jellified for you to be making any sort of escape anyway. If you have to, you can just kill the motherfucker and not have to deal with any consequences of what just transpired. 

 

“GZ you can get your bulge outta me now, thanks.”

 

You’re surprised he doesn’t sound pissed at you if just a bit mortified and ashamed. It’s that lack of wicked ire in his voice that keeps you from acting on the violence you had just been considering and complying instead. Sollux refuses to look at you, or rather, in your direction since the motherfucker can’t be looking at anything at all now with his ganderbulbs gone from his face. His lip curls in a disgusted little snarl as he pulls his pants back up and scoots away from you and the messy puddle on the metal floor. You simply flop back on your rump, not bothering to make yourself decent since Sollux can’t see the shit anyway, not that you would care even if he did. Flesh is flesh and you all got it, as far as you’re concerned. Shit still ain’t adding up for you, though. If he was up and alive (half-dead or what the motherfuck ever) the whole time, why didn’t he make to stop you?

 

“Are you still sitting there?”

“Honk.”

“Ugh, why don’t you go fuck off back to hiding somewhere and just give me some peace?”

“Why didn’t you up and say shit while I was all buried in you?”

 

He snarls with more fire in it this time, still not looking at you as he spits venom your way.

 

“What the fuck, GZ! How do you just come up on someone and think, ‘Hey, look at that! Someone’s having a shit time trying to get around and decided to ‘nope’ all over the floor and wallow in frustration and self fucking pity! I should stick my bulge in them!’”

“Motherfucker, I thought that flesh you’re up and occupying was deceased”

“.... Are you…. are you fucking serious? GZ what the fuck!?!?”

 

You lick across your fangs and purr at him, enjoying how appalled and scandalized he looks at learning your true intentions. Shit, that’s kinda fucking cute. Part of you notes that he had cum from your doings and files that away to ponder about later on. The other part of you delights in encouraging his shock and apparent disgust for your foul tastes and desires. 

 

“Brother, don’t you know? I’m the reason you don’t turn your back on the motherfuckin bodies :o)”


End file.
